Topics - Griznuq

OOC: This thread is for Harrison's Journal entries. These entries do not exist anywhere in game, so as not to be found, but they're entries in a journal in Harrison's mind. These are thoughts that he's having starting at the age of 15 - right around the starting point of the campaign.

Clive chittered at the window as Harrison tried to push it open silently. The window slid up making minimal noise, and Clive slipped in, scrambling up and into Harrison's bed to hide under the covers. Harrison had taught him to do that in case someone was awake.

Harrison returned to bed, hoping there was a note from his Emmanuelle.

ATTRIBUTES: Harrison is 5'9" and 125lbs. His hair is a wavy light brown, his eyes are green. Very smart, very wise, and charismatic.

APPEARANCE: Harrison likes to be clean, Always has a fresh robe on. He typically wears his school robes. He wears glasses, and he's commonly seen with a book in one hand, and a critter at his side. He doesn't have a beard growing just yet, but a light sheen of peach fuzz.

REMARKS: Harrison is always sincere, but has a mischievous streak. If left alone, he'll likely try to make sure he runs into Emma. If that's not possible, he'll be out with one pet or another.

Harrison thinks that every animal should have a name. Naming them is like welcoming them into your family to him. He names just about every animal he comes in contact with, and remembers them all clearly.

FAMILY: Read below.

Note: Harrison will deny having a last name, so as not to associate with his father.

Harrison's Background

It was hot this summer, more so than usual, or so they said. It didn’t bother Harrison much though. This was only his fourth summer, but he loved it! The crop was sparse this year, but Harrison was out there with a watering can nonetheless.

Jonah, Harrison’s father had taken a job with Our Common’s clergy. He was their newest priest, and proud as a peacock. Jonah’s love for Kaine was almost as devout has his love for Harrison, and Harrison’s mother, Eliza.

Today was Jonah’s first trip of many into the town as a Priest of Kaine. He was to make the two day trip three times a month to help out in the city. He was talking of moving the farm closer to the city, but Harrison had no idea how such a thing was possible.

You couldn’t just move a house, could you? His father always answered that question with “Of course,” but Harrison suspected his father didn’t understand the question… Either that, Harrison didn’t understand the answer.

Eliza always had grown the most vibrant flowers in the window boxes that Harrison had ever seen. Granted, he hadn’t seen many, since most of the plans he saw were to bear fruit and vegetables, but even still, her flowers always seemed to bloom larger and brighter than anyone else’s.

Jonah left just after lunch for the City, so excited he almost forgot to hug Harrison on his way out. “You be good lad. Make Kaine proud while I’m gone,” he said, mussing Harrison’s hair. Jonah stood, put on his favorite riding cap and scooped a loaf of bread from the counter. Eliza had baked it for him and wrapped it in wax paper to keep it fresh.

Over the next two years, Harrison learned a lot. His mother began to teach him about plants, and Animals. “Nature’s children,” she called the animals. She showed Harrison how to care for animals, and how to grow plants.

When Jonah was home, he taught Harrison all about Kaine, and all about being a devout follower. Harrison could recite the stories back and forth, and even helped his father make healing salves for the patrols. Harrison thought that one day he would be a High Priest of Kaine.

While Jonah was not around though, Eliza talked to Harrison differently. When the lessons about caring for plants and animals had finished, she too talked about Kaine, but differently.

“Don’t you find it a little farfetched,” Eliza asked Harrison one fall evening as they sat by the open wood stove. Harrison was seven years old now, and had a large Saint bernard, whom he liked to use as a giant pillow while he watched the flames.

“Fine what Farfetched, mother?”

“The stories about Kaine. How one man could possibly do all these things? Sometimes I think the stories are made up just to teach us all some morals.”

“Mother!” Harrison exclaimed shocked. “Kaine is the reason we are all alive! To doubt him is blasphemy!” Eliza’s face melted a little bit. “Harrison, it is human nature to ask questions. I’m not without belief, I just could imagine having to do what Kaine did.”

She sighed, “I guess that’s why he’s Kaine and I’m not, huh?” Her tone was bland, even to seven year old Harrison. He was a little bit confused by the discussion and her manner. If she believed, why ask questions like that?

He settled back down into Gunthar’s sleeping furry belly. Harrison loved both of his parents very much, and never doubted either one. His mother’s next words were very difficult to understand, but he obeyed them. “We can talk about things like this Harrison, you and I. But you must understand, your father’s job makes it difficult to talk to him about these things. Don’t ever mention anything like this to him. You understand?” Harrison agreed.

When Jonah returned the next day, he did not wear the usual look of satisfaction he always wore when returning home. Tonight, he wore a look of concern.

Harrison went to bed that night as usual, but stayed awake and listened as hard as he could. His parents were talking in very hushed tones, and they were hard to hear. All Harrison could gather was that his father was confused by something.

Over the next year, each time Jonah returned he seemed more and more distant. He wouldn’t talk about it with Harrison, and talked less with Eliza. By Harrison’s ninth birthday, Jonah would arrive home and go into his study. Harrison was no longer allowed in that room.

Discussions between Eliza and Jonah became heated, Jonah clutching to his faith, Eliza telling him his instincts might not be wrong.

“Harrison,” Eliza said one night, a couple hours after Jonah had left for one of his trips into the city.

“Yes mother?”

Eliza drew the boy in close, and looked into his eyes. Harrison could read the concern in his mother’s face. “Something is wrong, isn’t it mother,” Harrison stated, more than asked.

She was quite for another few moments, and finally answered, “Yes. Something is wrong.” She took a deep breath and released her son. “It’s time for you to learn a few things, my son.”

Eliza handed Harrison a small bowl full of soil, and held in a seed in front of him. “Look at it,” she said.

Harrison studied the seed until his mother pushed it down into the soil in the bowl Harrison held. “Look at me,” she instructed. He looked at his mother, locking stares.

“Think of the seed, Harrison. Feel the bowl in your hands, the soil in it moist with life giving water. The seed is absorbing the water. Feel the seed… feel it as though it were a part of you, drinking water, absorbing nutrients, growing roots…

Harrison’s gaze was locked by his mother’s, though he saw nothing. In his mind, the seed sat in darkness, changing.

“Harrison,” Eliza’s voice shook him from his trance. He looked at the bowl in his hands. A foot long stem jutting out of the soil wagged in front of him. Shocked, he dropped the bowl, and it crashed to the floor. Harrison thought for sure his mother was going to be angry. She barely seemed to notice.

Eliza watching his face as he tried desperately to comprehend what had just happened. “It’s you son, you made that grow. You are something this government and religion says is wrong. I’ve known for a long time, I saw the same spark in you that I have in me.”

Magic! Harrison could perform magic, and from what he just heard, his mother could to.

“Harrison, no one knows, but you and I. Not even your father. Telling him would complicate things, and he’s confused right now anyway. I don’t know where it comes from, but I know it’s not from Kaine. I can only show you what I know, if you’re willing to learn it.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

Harrison nodded. Over the next couple of months, Harrison learned more than he ever thought possible. By his tenth birthday, Harrison knew everything his mother knew.

The spring of his tenth year, his mother stood at the window in the kitchen, looking at a small sparrow that had landed on the sill. She was sad. Harrison knew something was very wrong. His father was due back the night before, but hadn’t returned.

Harrison went to bed that night, tucked in by his mother. She hadn’t tucked him in to bed in years. “Hold on to what you are, Harrison. Never let go of it. Do what they tell you, but don’t believe it all. Keep the children of nature at your side, for they know something’s amiss.” She kissed his forehead, and he went to sleep, hearing her last words, “I love you.”

The next morning when Harrison woke, his mother was not there. Instead, Jonah stood at the foot of the stairs wearing his ceremonial robes. “Come down here son,” he said. There were two other men with him, both priests.

“Your mother is dead, Harrison. I’m sorry. Wolves apparently attacked the sheep in the night and she went out to fight them off. She was unsuccessful.” There were no feelings in Jonah’s words. Harrison didn’t believe it, but he remembered her words from the night before.

“You will be placed in the care of the Orphanage, son. I cannot raise you myself, Kaine requires… Deserves too much of my time.

“Come Gunthar,” he called the dog, who obediently obeyed. The other priest grabbed Harrison’s arm roughly. “Listen here boy, I’m in charge of the Orphanage. You will obey our rules. That dog stays here. Your father will take care of it.” The words hung in the air with more meaning than Harrison cared for.

Harrison defiantly looked at the man’s hand, and then at his father. Jonah stood rigid, though he looked away from Harrison’s judging stare.

“If those are the rules, I shall abide them,” Harrison said in a tone that spoke of obedience, though his face scowled in contempt. The man returned the glare with a similar one. Satisfied, the man let go, and ushered the boy out the door, to a waiting carriage.

With a quick gesture, and a small grunt, Harrison pet the dog’s head, and Gunthar made a break for the door. The big dog was out the door and gone.

The man looked at Harrison piercingly. Harrison said only, “I think he saw a rabbit.”

There were tracks beside this one, only they were different. They were not made by the wheels of this carriage, they were just a bit thicker. There was a second carriage, one that no doubt left with his mother.

Harrison looked to the sheep pen. There was one dead sheep, and one dead wolf. Harrison knew that wolves only hunted in packs. If his father’s words were true, there’d be more dead sheep.

“One wolf got away Harrison, a cub. You’ll be safer at the Orphanage anyway,” Jonah explained. Harrison rolled his eyes. As if he’d be afraid of a wolf cub. Harrison never noticed how out of place his father really was this far from the city where he’d grown up. Jonah didn’t belong with nature’s children.

Harrison let himself be lead into the wagon. The man climbed into the driver’s seat.

“The trip to the city is a couple of days by Wagon, there’s food in the chest,” Jonah said through the window. “Good luck, boy,” was the last thing his father said before turning back into the house. Harrison heard the sound of breaking glass from inside the house. Harrison knew it was his mother’s oil lamp. Harrison knew that his father must have found out about the magic, but he didn’t know it was in Harrison too. Harrison’s mother had pushed too hard.

Looking out the window as the wagon rolled away, Harrison saw tendrils of smoke rising from the house. He knew it wasn’t from the wood stove.

He looked away from the house at the country side. A flash of gray caught his eye, as a wolf cub darted from behind tree to tree, easily keeping up with the wagon. Harrison hoped that the driver never saw it.

Over the next few years, Harrison spent as much time as possible as far from the orphanage as he was allowed, and he played with the wolf cub, which he named Logan, as often as possible.

Harrison never saw the man who claimed to be in charge of the orphanage again, though he suspected he would, and when he did, Harrison would have a nice surprise for him.

Jonah never came to see Harrison, which frankly was fine by Harrison.

The youngster took every opportunity to learn. He was always reading books. He surrounded himself with animals when possible.

He also keep the abilities he’d learned from his father so many years ago, but privately taught himself to shape them for his own purposes. These things were separate from the things he learned from his mother.

He learned he had a power over life. He could use it to help him influence people, gain knowledge, heal wounded children of nature, or even help them pass from this life to the next when they were too badly hurt.

All of this, he kept a secret. There was no one he could trust, though he had his eye on one girl. Emma seemed different than most. He liked her, he found. She would become a good friend of his, and eventually introduce him to the Whisper Guild.

In a world where he felt he was the only biped of his kind, the revelation that there were many others was exciting. Harrison decided that he’d give this Guild a shot. Especially since that meant he could spend more time with Emma.

(BTW. Harrison doesn't want to be associated with his father, so he typically claims not to know his last name.)

Do parents sip wine with dinner? What's the legal drinking age? Do the clergy use wine in their services? Are there breweries or is it something that families make for themselves in their back yards?

Same questions regarding Tobbacco.

Are there sports teams? Are they for just kids like little league and pop warner, or are there actually professional sprotsmen? Are they organized like baseball and football or are they just shows of prowess like long jumps and pole vaults?

Duthash Dracum Basque VY 237(May 29) (This is the same day as session 17 "The Cliffside Crypts" part 2)

Bastion sat twisted inside the livery wagon, looking out the small window beside him. This was his first time outside of Rhohannus, and every little bit of it was sheer excitement! He'd never seen so many squirrels and little birds! He had even seen a fox and three deer! Spectacular journey!

It was almost with disappointment that Bastion realized the wheels of the wagon had slowed. "We're just entering Threshold, Master Bastion," the driver said.

What a fantastic place! There was a river flowing right through the middle if it. The houses were small and quaint. So very different from the city. This seemed the kind of place he'd heard nobles talk about vacationing in. How could a place so beautiful function without proper spiritual guidance and divine presence? Bastion supposed they couldn't; that would be why he was called upon.

The wagon moved along slowly and finally came to a halt. The driver jumped down and opened the door, and Bastion ducked through the door way and set foot for the first time on Threshold soil. As he looked up, he saw a man approaching. This man could only be Julius Hawkhaven.

Bastion straightened and smiled. He extended his hand in greeting to the man who'd asked for assistance. "Master Hawkhaven, I presume?"

Two weeks since leaving the Ironbark forest and Maragarn found the first sign of his people's passing through the area. Of course, he'd known he'd wait about that long at least, since this would be where they were when he left.

The lack of growth in the circles where they'd set their tents told him little in regards to how long they'd been gone, only just that they were in fact, gone.

This realization drove home the fact that this was the first time that Maragarn truely didn't know where his family was.

There on the ground was the skull of a goat, and it was facing north. This skull was too clean and white to have died and decayed. This was here for a reason. Maragarn knew it faced the direction his tribe had gone.

The road. Such an odd thing to be traveling outside of town, much less be outside at all. By all accounts the trip to the Ironbark forest should only take a week or so. Fortunately, the sun wasn’t too hot.

The road however was dry and dusty. If it weren’t’ for your handkerchief, you were sure your throat would have been sore.

Plodding along you notice something crawling on your shoulder. You realize it’s Scurry. He must have stowed back aboard your shoe after you’d released him. He seemed to be trying to look you in the eye, as if to say “I go where you go”. After a moment, he skittered down your arm and into a pocket at your side. Fortunately, this pocket was a fairly loose one.

Absently you put a hand on the pocket that contained the cylinder, making certain it was still there, and it was indeed still there, and still as mysterious as ever. It almost felt warm to the touch through the pocket fabric. Then again, it was metal, and absorbing heat from your body.

The great Ironbark trees had been visible for quite a distance by the time you actually got to the base of one. This was without question the largest living thing you’d ever heard of, much less seen.

The smells of the plant life were nearly over powering. You’d noticed them miles ago, but they just loomed here, shrouding the trees and everything around them. This place was bustling with life… Birds, squirrels, plants… And yet, there was something distinctly not alive about some aspect of it… Something perhaps a little morbid. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You’d gathered legends and whatever information you could find regarding the Centaurs before leaving Embar, and read it along the way. This forest had seen a great deal of death over the years, more than its fair share according to the stories. Perhaps these giant living things had a powerful familiarity with the peaceful release of death. Maybe you were just feeling the calm of death that had left its impression on these ancient trees.

No, that didn’t feel right. There was certainly the feeling of death, but not peace. There was very little peace here. Something was not right.

As you peered into the woods taking it all in, a sudden shape of a centaur became apparent. You wondered how you could overlook that in broad daylight. The creature did not move, but stood and watched. After a long moment, it beckoned you to it.

You realized as you got closer, that this centaur was out of place. He was wearing armor and was armed to the nines. This fellow was ready for war. He looked just like the drawings in one of the books you’d read.

You stopped about twenty paces away, as a gentle breeze blew across you. You notice on his hand the same tattoo as the one in on the dead body back in Embar, only this one had a shield in the background of it. The breeze that floated by, blowing at your hair didn’t touch the Centaur. He was a ghost!

He looked you up and down a moment longer, and slowly his face of stone softened a bit. He nodded with what appeared to be approval, and pointed to the west-northwest with his spear. He put his fist to his chest in an ancient salute, and faded into nothing.

Session 3 begins

Maragarn

The idea that there are simply no roots this year weighs on you like a boulder. The thought that there may be no possibility of success is simply unacceptable.

Still, you realize you have nothing but to trust in the words of Su’tharc, who doesn’t seem to appear worried. Somehow that does seem of some comfort, if only a little.

Over the years, you’ve seen one fact prove itself true over and over again, and that’s this: Failure can only occur if it’s allowed to. If there are no roots, perhaps there’s something else.

Time was precious, but there was a little that could be spared.

Fir’Ath

Having been in this place for only one day, you’d already seen more than you were prepared for. Centaurs, a race supposedly older than time, Trees that loomed further over heard than any you’d ever seen, a Satyr… Dead Orcs from thousands of years ago…

Since leaving your home, the only clarity and sense of stability you’d had was while running with Mithril.

Still though, this was a fantastic place to be, and considered really quite an honor. And to be asked by a Centaur to help with anything was not only unexpected, but completely unprecedented.

Was this something to be excited about? Probably. Scared? Most definitely.

Eswarth

An odd day it’d been. It was uncommon for there to be outsiders in the Centaur city, much less two… Even more uncommon was it for a race of the Emerald Dawn to be in the Centaur city, and again, much less common for there to be two at the same time, matter of fact, it’s never happened before. History was being made. Things were definitely happening. What? Time would tell.

The tainted smell seemed more pungent on the air last night, although still very faint. It could be just that you were more aware of it.

Dead Orcish soldiers from thousands of years ago are coming back to life, regenerating… Too many questions…

Something was definitely happening.

Everything after this will be filled in as soon as I get the chance... Feel free to step in if I don't get to it shortly...

Exiting Trilomore's quarters, Belwar felt unsure of exactly how he should feel. There was a pang of guilt for being so suspicious of someone who was supposedly trying to help. One could not be too careful though. The reality was that Belwar still didn't know if Trillomore could be trusted. He'd no reason to distrust the fellow, yet no reason not to.

With a sigh, the normally surly Dwarf shook off the uncertainty and tried to regain a hold on the thoughts he was having before the meeting. Even though his thoughts were a little less focused, Belwar managed to regain a certain mesasure of the peace he was feeling earlier.

Eswarth and Grayan set out to collect an Orc who was spotted to the west.

Grayan tracks the Orc When found and approached, the Orc does not respond. The Orc’s garb is very unusual, very old looking. He doesn’t have any weapons or the customary tattoos an Orc tytically displayed.

He also exudes a stink that would wake the dead...wait?!?

As they get closer, they realize the Orc’s color is off, he’s grayish. Most disturbing: his eye is hanging from its socket.

Eswarth realizes that the thing is undead!

Eswarth ties a rope around it, with two long tethers, Grayan takes the tether in the front, Eswarth in the back and they lead the thing out of the area. It does not struggle or resist, though it does still try to go it’s own way.

Eswath realizes that the thing tries to avoid Eswarth.

Firath arrives just after the Zombie is corralled, Introduces himself.

The three take the zombie into the Centuar city. Fir’ath is amazed by the city.

Eswarth escorts Fir’ath and the zombie (Grayan makes himself scarce) to Aimria’s house, just outside of the city. Su’tharc is there.

* * * * *

Maragarn’s travels finally brought him to the edge of the Ironbark forest where he was met by a female centaur with long flowing golden hair. She lead him to the city and left him at the community tavern. She explained that she’d let Su’tharc know he was here, and would return for him when Su’tharc was available.

There was an elf tending bar who served Maragarn.

Maragarn ate, and looked about at the art work on the shelves.

* * * * *

Eswarth and Fir’ath bring the creature to Aimria’s house, where Su’tharc is.

Some inspection of this thing suggests that its garb is close to 1,000 years old.. Also, when Eswarth quetions whether Su'tharc or Aimria will be able to use this beast to create a cure for those centaur who (as a result of earlier encounters with these undead) had fallen sick, Su'tharc says that those centaurs are already starting to feel better (Good: It's not the plague, only a passing ailment!)

Su’tharc takes the creature into the house, and tells Eswarth that until he finds out more, perhaps it would be a good idea to give Fir’ath a meal at the tavern. The two go.

Upon entering the tavern, Eswarth and Fir’ath take note of the Satyr. Eswarth also noticed Grayan.

Eswarth orders food and drink from the Elf. The elf said to Eswarth,” Here’s some of the best meat we got, enjoy it while it's still good.” The statement struck Eswarth as odd, but now was not the time to find out what the Elf meant.

Eswarth and Fir’ath chatted, and in conversation mentioned Su’tharc’s name. Maragarn asked if they knew Su’tharc and asked if he’d be able to meet with him. After some preliminary questioning, Eswarth concluded that the woman who provided guidance into the woods, would return as she said when Su’tharc was available.

As he finished his sentence, The doors opened, and the female guide came in. She gathered all three of the adventurers, and brought them out to Su’tharc’s grove.

Su’tharc tells Fir’ath that the body he’s looking for in Embar has gone missing, and Su’tharc has arranged for the document Fir’ath is after to be brought there to the forest. Fir’ath would not have to go to the city himself.

The subject changes to the Zombie. Su’tharc explains that the Orc appears to be an undead soldier from the battle of twelve nights, and it appears that not only are they coming back to life, they’re regenerating. Being that the Orc died so long ago, it should be just a skeleton, but this one was flesh and bone.

Su’tharc explained that he doesn’t think the Orcs coming back to life is the only thing that’s going on. He said that he thinks these Orcs coming back to life is just a side effect of something bigger. What, he does not know.

Su’tharc explained to Maragarn that no Ironbark trees took this year, and thus there are no roots to give, but he would know more in a day or so.

Su’tharc asked that while the travelers are in the Ironbark their unusual skills would be greatly appreciated. Maragarn said that his grandfather’s life was more important to him than this forest or whether or not some trees grew.

“Charon,” Eril said, the smell of formaldehyde permeating the room as he entered. Today the morgue would be receiving a body. This was nothing new, but as Eril said last night, it was a special body for a special client.

It was uncommon that Eril would wake Charon, mostly because he was seldom up early enough. Clearly, today’s task was of extreme importance, as it was very early, good two or three hours before the day would ordinarily start.

Light rain coated the ground keeping dust from kicking up behind the wheels of the merchant's cart on this, the fifth day out of the Knuckleroot Forest. This gray day did nothing to lessen the chubby human's banter. It was remarkable how much could be said without ever really having anything to say and surely Orath pushed the limits. Every subject slid easily into the next through some segue or another.

"On my way through Carolmire I managed to pick up this," the merchant said, showing Fir'ath a gold band pinching the flesh of his chubby ring finger. It was very shiney.

It’d been about a week now that the Orcs had arrived in the Ironbark forest. It was an unusual kind of visit though. Ordinarily, a tribe of Orcs would somehow get it in their heads that they could come down to the Ironbark and launch an assult. They’d rally a few other tribes and come in groups of maybe sixty or seventy. Most times the battle wouldn’t even last a few hours. It’d been years since a Centaur was even killed.

This was different though. There weren’t groups of tens. There was no war paint, no drums… They weren’t even fighting. Su’tharc would get a report from his animal network that there were two or three in a particular part of the woods, and he’d send five Guardians to take care of it.

Each time, it was fast and uneventful. You had been on three of these events yourself, and by all accounts they were evil. Being a paladin, you know! But they didn’t fight back. In fact, they were not even armed. Though this was puzzling to you, and even a little bit disturbing, the fact remained that they were evil, and in your forest. This could not be forgiven.

You didn’t know why Su’thac had sent Virik, his feral cat friend to retrieve you, but you’d suspected there was something weighing on his mind of late. Indeed you thought that same something was gnawing at yours as well.

Su’tharc sat in a small clearing he’d always enjoyed, a small fire cooking a pair of rabbits. He was resting on the ground, four legs folded beneath him. His arms were folded at his chest, and he sucked on a pipe. His eyes focused on the fire showed no sign he’d even noticed your approach, though you knew he had, even without his animal companions alerting him.

“The forest is worried,” Su’tharc said in a concerned tone to no one in particular. Aegis, Su’tharc’s Great Horned Owl friend sat motionless on a nearby limb watching for movement.

“Come, sit,” he beckoned. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small bag of tobacco and set it down on a stone to his side, next to a full flagon of mead. Both of these things sounded good at the moment. The mead would warm a bit, and it was a little cold in the shelter of the trees.

“Fir’Ath,” said Thalas, the blind advisor of the village. “These times are difficult for me, as I seldom find a soul I can trust.” His forlorn tone sent shivers down your spine. Could it really be all that bad?

“I know you’re ill at ease with the current state of everything, and your heart cries out for answers. Our race is young and misunderstood for the most part, but I believe you would be welcomed in the City of Embar.” He paused a moment to allow you to prepare for his obvious request.

“Fir’Ath, I need your help.” Something in his tone made you aware that he was asking out of necessity. Thalas did in fact, NEED your help. Something was wrong. This request made you nervous.

“Dannath Pier, a good friend of mine from the Elven lands has gone missing. They do not yet know this, but he is dead.” Thalas put his hand up to preempt your questions. “I have not the time to explain right now how I know, please just take it on faith. Llannath was on a task from the Elven King to deliver a document to King Maithen.” He was the king of Embar.

“I don’t know exactly what the document said, but I believe it was political importance."

“That document really could be just about anywhere. We do need to recover it. This is not quite as important though, as recovering Llannath’s body. It must be delivered back to the Elves, so that they can find out what happened, and who stole the document.”

Rate of 30 miles a day, It’ll take 50 days. (at 20 miles a day, 75 days).

The last few days were somewhat nerve wracking. You’d never been more than a few miles out of the woods, and now you were preparing for the trip that would take more than a month, even under the best conditions. You’re feelings are mixed. You’re certain that this is the right thing to do, but you wonder if perhaps you’re not quite the right person to do it. Well, nothing to do about it now, all the arrangements had been made.

The Kingdom of Embar was, by all accounts, a fairly safe place to travel for someone who belonged to a race that didn’t exist before the Emerald Dawn. It was certainly safer than the other Kingdoms on this continent. But still, there was no reason to not be cautious.

You stood before the polished sheet of metal and folded your wings behind you, and pulled on the specially made trench coat. This coat was fashioned so that the back would expand, looking like a smallish back pack. Fortunately the heat of summer was behind you, and a coat like this wouldn’t draw attention.

With your hood drawn, you thought you were all but invisible! You cautioned yourself that you may not be giving the would-be onlookers enough credit, though you were confident in your disguise.

Thalas’s words still rang in your head. Why you?? Of course, you already knew why. There really wasn’t a more logical choice for it. …But really, a dead body? And an old one at that! The image of yourself digging up a body in the middle of the night wasn’t something you enjoyed picturing, yet you really couldn’t stop.

You tried to convince yourself that the document was the important part. You would concentrate on that, and maybe afterwards, the body wouldn’t seem so important. Perhaps you would be able to leave that part off… Maybe someone else could pick up that part of it after you’ve found the document. … you knew you were reaching, but it helped to keep you sane.

You took the coat off and hung it on the peg next to your door. You glanced around the room again to make sure you had everything packed, and again, you decided that you had.

It was about time for the dinner Thalas had told you they were planning, and you being the one honored by it, you thought you should probably attend. Really you’d rather just sneak out the back door and be on your way, but you understood well that this honor was more about allowing them to give, rather than you receiving.

You drew a deep breath and forced it back out, hoping it would take with it your uncertainty. It’s a shame things didn’t work that way.

You went over the plan again in your mind. Dinner would be brief, perhaps a half an hour, and you’d be off. Your things were already packed, fastened to Mithril, your horse (named for his unusual silver-gray color). Mithril was a gift from Thalas. You would head east, and should make it to Rockwater village within a week.

Rock water village was a small farming community. Originally, it was a simple rest stop along the road. People settled there because of the natural springs that bubbled along the sides of the road and ran down into the Shallow rivers. The largest of these springs was a ways off the road, and came up through a crack in a mostly-buried stone. Sages would say it was really just the tip of an enormous boulder, one that if exhumed, would be close to the size of a small mountain.

The water that came out was always clean, cold and sweet. The first folks who settled there, created a trading post. Eventually, someone planted some seeds and grew their crops right there to be traded, and next thing you knew… Poof, a village.

The trade still goes on in Rockwater, only now it’s regulated a little better, and there are guards to watch for thieves.

After Rockwater village, there would be another week of travel, and you’d arrive at the edge of the woods your people call Ironbark Forest. There were stories told amongst your people about the Ironbark Forrest. It was said to be haunted and dangerous.

Ironbark Forrest was home to many creatures, among them, the centaurs. There was one among the Centaurs who would be your guide throughout your stay within the woods. He was commissioned to keep you safe. He would also have the instructions for the rest of your trip. Thalas explained that the rest of the trip would be kept from you until then, simply for your own protection.

The trip through the Forest would take about a week, as it was unknown and wooded terrain. After the Forest, the rest of the way would be road travel until you reached the City of Embar.

The DinnerThe banquet table was fashioned out of a huge Knuckleroot tree. The tree shapers had spent many weeks with the tree, and changed its shape. From above, it still looked the same, but from the ground, it was as though a portion of the tree had been carved out of the middle. There table was about twelve feet in diameter. There were benches of sorts also carved out of the middle of the tree. The rest of the tree above was held up in eight places around the table where the tree remained unchanged.

All of the adults of the village were there. The dinner was a large roasted boar, a venison stew and various greens. Everyone drank the finest mead.

Of all the people in the Vilage, only Thalas knew of your task. Everyone else believed you were simply in search of answers, on a personal journey.

Actual game play:

Fir’ath spent his dinner simply eating and making small talk with Thalas. He reminded Fir’ath to keep Mithril watered well.

The meal ended, and Fir’ath slipped out of the village, on the coat tails of a chubby human merchant and his wagon.

Fir’ath forced himself to make small talk with the merchant, as he found it odd a fat little human merchant would be traveling at night, and alone. The little man was very skittish, as though he were trying to hide something… or at least make it look as though he were trying to hide something.

The merchant confided in Fir’ath that he had a knife in his vest, for protection. Orath (the merchant) seemed to think Fir’ath should be intimidated by the knife.

Orath explained that he came to this village to trade for feathers, which he used to make blankets and coats and Quills. He said that they sold very well.

Orath stopped the wagon, and hopped down with almost cat-like grace. VERY odd for a fat little human. He dug around in the wagon and pulled out a large blanket. Fir’ath noticed the hilt of a dagger in Orath’s boot. Perhaps there was a little more to this fat little man after all.

Orath gifted the blanket to Fir’ath.

The two traveled on until around dawn, and moved off of the road for about half a hand to make camp.